


The Curse to be a Plegian Queen

by kurikku



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 16:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16998888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurikku/pseuds/kurikku
Summary: Will Sierra break the curse of daunting nightmares?





	The Curse to be a Plegian Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Merry christmas to my dear friend April who requested angst~

Sierra ducks an incoming thrown axe. Sliced strands of her brown hair fall onto her bare shoulders, poking her skin like needles. She takes rapid breaths and covers her mouth from the overwhelming raw taste and smell of iron. Then, she felt a cold sensation below. With caution, she looks down to a crimson pool of blood soaks her torn trousers.

Myriads of thoughts assault her analytical mind. 'Who's blood is this? No- with this volume... 4... more than 9 people's? Where am I?'

A thunderous roar snaps the tactician out of her thoughts. Sierra swivels her head to the sound. In the darkness, she could make out the shape of a bandit charging towards her. A lightning flashes, reflecting his sharp blade tainted with dripping blood. Her hand darts for her own weapons as she watches the berserk man. However, Sierra turns rigid. The pages of her fire tome are wet and torn while her sword is missing. Adrenaline pumps faster throughout her whole body.

She has to escape.

Ordering her slightly numb legs to run, she scurries to the opposite side, leaving huge splashes of blood behind.

'Where is everyone?' Sierra surveys around for her comrades and enemies. The clinks and clanks of swinging swords surround her. At the corner of her eyes, she spots glowing unsettling Risen eyes. She keeps her eyes on the path forward out of worry they would immobilise her with fear. But, where should she go? She recognises nobody and yet something feels familiar. The rocky mountains are hindering her visuals.

'If only Sumia is here, I could access the situation better from above.' Sierra hides behind one of the mountains, and catches her breath. Her legs give in to the exhaustion as they collapse. The tactician looks up, flinching at the sudden downpour of rain. Her battle wounds bleed open, flowing down her body along with the rain water. She hugs herself, desperate for warmth. How could she be careless enough to be caught in such a bleak situation? Another flash of lightning lights up the sky, highlighting a flying spear thrown in her direction.

Sierra bites her lips as she rolls away. Her hair is caught in the mud splash, hindering her view. She rubs her eyes and could not believe it.

Her own comrade threw the lance at her.

"... Frederick?" Her voice cracks.

Frederick emerges from the shadow. His hair is disheveled, and his glare is colder than the gust of wind and torrent of rain. His horse snarls at her and he makes no motion to tame it.

"What... was that for?" Sierra commands her voice and legs to stay strong.

"You have the gall to ask? That for our Grace!" His voice is raw with emotion.

'Our Grace?' Sierra only knows one person that Frederick has ever addressed as that."... For Exalt Emmeryn?"

"Don't speak her name!" The Ylissean Prince shouts from above. Sierra swivels her head towards his voice. However, she was a second too late. Chrom has leap and stabs her shoulder with his silver sword. She screeches in pain, tumbling to the ground from the excruciating pain and blood lost.

"Frederick was right. I was such a fool to ignore your origins. How could I be so blind to your Plegian background when those eyes are always mocking me?" Chrom scowls and unsheathes his Falchion, pointing it at her cloak.

"Sierra! Use your Thunder tome!" Sumia shouts from the skies. "Hurry!"

With hesitation, the tactician fumbles with her right hand. She searches her cloak and grabs her tome, reading the spell without looking.

"ELTHUNDER!" Sierra yells at the top of her lungs, electrifying the Prince and his knight. The dark flier swoops in, pulling Sierra onto her pegasus.

"Are you alright?" Sumia keeps her eyes trained for any incoming attacks. Sierra's mind is too occupied to respond. Her head is spinning from the attack. Has she been betrayed? She grips the sword, inevitably recoiling from the pain. Bile rises up her throat and she pukes. Everything is happening too fast for her to keep up. "Sierra?"

"I... I don't understand what is happening." Sierra weakly replies. She wipes the bile off her mouth. Her head is getting lighter.

"Oh, dear are you having another memory loss?"

"I..."

"I don't blame you for wanting to forget what happened."

"W... what?"

"Exalt Emmeryn had fallen to her death. And this may be funny coming from me, but I think you should fall too."

Without warning, Sierra had been pushed off the pegasus. The last thing she saw was an eerie smile from her pusher. Sierra is unable to open her eyes afterwards. She falls at an alarming accelerating speed; her hair and cloak flap violently. Her cuts combined with the heavy rain and wind sting her entire body. Her screams are silenced by the thunder.

"And of course, you deserve to be electrified too. It's only fair when you did that to your dear friends-in-arms, Prince Chrom and Sir Frederick." Sumia's voice seems to circle around her as if she is stuck in a hurricane. Somehow, she feels soft petals along with their sharp thorns brushing her skin. "Are our lives that disposable to you? Do we mean nothing to you? Oh let's do a quick flower fortune. She cares. She doesn't. She cares. She doesn't. She cares..."

Sierra tries to counter but she cannot hear her own voice anymore.

"She doesn't." The taunting voice continues, "Hmm. I don't know what I expected but do you think that's true? Is that true Sierra? Anyway, you know I read in a book that lightning strikes the highest point and ironically you're obviously going to the lowest point. Lucky you!"

* * *

  
"Hold still, Sierra!"

Sierra jerks up, reopening her wounds in the process. She winces and holds her redden bandaged shoulder.

"I could sneak a slimy frog into your back and you never woke up but with a tiny drop of ointment you're up in a heartbeat!" Lissa complains as she reapplies the bandages. Gusts of wind blow, whistling into the dead quiet woods and tousle both their hairs. The cooling smell of ointment adds to the coldness. Lissa's twintails are untied. Her long, tangled and bushy hair reaches her shoulders. Her bright yellow clothing have been tarnished and are covered by a ragged raincoat. The glow from her staff and the flame in the lantern waver from the engulfing darkness.

"I... Sorry." Sierra stays still. Her hair and face has been washed, for she can see clearly now. Her eyes locks onto her bare feet. They are wrinkled and bloody. Did she lose her boots? What happened just now? She remembered falling... just like how Emmeryn did. Her shoulders slump, and her hands tremble. She runs her hands over her shoulders. The cuts have been healed, probably by Lissa's staff. 'Have Chrom and Frederick been patched up too? Was that really Sumia?' A pang of guilt hits her chest. What Chrom, Frederick and Sumia said were true. She was there to witness Exalt Emmeryn falling to her death. Chrom had tried to exact his revenge on her. The sword that he used is plunged into a tree that is out of both their range.

Strangely, a memory of herself stabbing Chrom with a lightning-shaped sword flashes through her mind. Another flash of memory comes, where she laid a thunder spell against an invader in the Ylissean castle. She grips her head, confused at the disorientated memories. The throbbing headaches stop at her grim conclusion. 'Or was I the one who betrayed them?'

Nothing is making sense. 'Facts, facts, facts think of the facts.' Sierra reminds herself that Exalt Emmeryn had fallen, that she is certain. Her chest feels heavier. She should have came up a better plan to rescue her. She should not have wasted the time sleeping instead of strategising. She should have done her job better. Everyone's lives were on her hands. She must atone for this. She should be the one who should die. 'I should be the one dead.'

"Now you better go," Lissa's warning snaps her out. "They're after you. I have to go back for Maribelle, she must be worried sick. Well, maybe for Chrom too."

"... Why?" Sierra mumbles, not bothering to move. Her lifeless eyes are looking anywhere but her companion's eyes. Anywhere she goes, she will be a walking target. Is there any point in resisting?

"Why? Maribelle-"

"No, why did you help me?" Sierra spit the words out, harsher than she intends to be. She expels her sigh. Locks of her hair fall and conceals her face. "Sorry. I... What happened to Exalt Emmeryn," Lissa looks away at the mention of her name, "is because of me. I'm sorr-"

"Then," Lissa interrupts her apology, "here's my punishment for you - live."

"... Eh?"

Sierra's eyes widen, unable to fathom her motives. At that moment, she realises she had been busy worrying about herself she did not notice how different her best friend has been. 'Of course she will be different, you just killed her sister! A simple sorry will never be enough.' Sierra clenches her fists, angry at her in-sensitiveness. How could Lissa demand her to live when she has nothing left to give?

"Look at me, Sierra!" Lissa pulls her shoulders back, forcing the tactician to face her. "Don't you dare die on me. Knowing you, you would gladly sacrifice yourself to atone. You think it's that easy?! No! NO! It's not!" Tears flow down her cheeks like a broken dam. Her voice breaks her heart into a million pieces. "I already lost my sister, how many sisters, no how many more people must leave me? You think that leaving is right answer? You think being a martyr will solve everything? Well tactician I have news for you- it doesn't! It's the worst answer you can think of! Fix this, I don't know how, you're the tactician!"

By then, the fire has been extinguished. Silence and the dimness devour the both of them. Lissa recites the fire spell, reigniting the flame.

"Lissa." Sierra breaks the silence and trails off. The Lissa she remembers would have ran away without telling her mind off. She would not have came into the dark forest by herself just to find and tend to her wounds. And she certainly would never eat bear meat under any circumstances. Upon closer look, the tactician realises the scratches, bug bites and dirt on her. Her mouth quivers and tears threaten to spill. With a shaky voice, she comments, "your breath... smells of bear meat."

The ghost of a smile flits across her face. "In case you haven't notice, I care about you, a lot. So please..."

Sierra gives a sad nod. Her teary eyes reflect she feels the same. Without wasting anymore time, Lissa stomps her staff onto the ground and casts a spell, warping her away. Her staff topples over, and the glow vanishes.

* * *

  
"You better wake up, you better!" Lissa grips her staff, praying hard to Naga to wake her dear friend up. The sage's eyes are red and swell from the endless night of weeping.

In the deepest Plegian chamber, the Queen lays on her bed deep in slumber. However, she sleeps with frowns, excessive sweat and grunts. The room is as equally gloom as the situation.

"Sierra..." Her best friend mumbles. Her attention is wavering from the lack of sleep and energy. "Ugh! Grima if you're hearing me then help us too!"

"That's enough Lissa, you should rest." The King halts his chanting, "You have been up for a whole day already."

"Well! You should look into a mirror yourself then!" Lissa retorts and quickly apologises. "Sorry, I didn't mean to shout, especially at you."

Henry's smile remains put. However, his ashen complexion and weak voice betrays him. As he lifts his signature finger near his mouth, the sleeves of his robes slide off and reveals his scrawny frame. The sage plops on her chair with a perpetual look of concern. "Okay okay, you don't have to hex me to take a break. You should take one yourself..." With a huff, she ties her hair up into a long ponytail that reaches her waist. She stares at the hourglass and whispers to herself. "Two more days..."

"Two more days till the curse will end." Henry continues, much to her dismay. He cracks his eyes open, tiny enough to see his beloved. The corner of his mouth falters at the crown she wears. The source of the curse.

"Argh! How could Validar do this? Him being alive was already a nuisance. Now that he's dead he's still one! Why did he gotta lay a stupid curse, ARGGHGHH! That's it I'm getting fresh air!" Henry simply keeps his eyes on Sierra as Lissa storms out of the room.

"Do you need anything?" Lon'qu stands beside him, his voice stoic.

"No, thank you. The kitchen is on the first floor on the right."

With that, the swordsman nods and stealthily leaves the room to follow his wife.

Henry looks around the room for any other visitor, especially for their son Morgan. He has been visiting with all kinds of ingredients collected with Tharja, in hopes of breaking the curse. Despite their efforts, it was all for nought. As there is still time, they never stop searching for more solutions. The Kingdoms of Ylisse, Ferox and Valm have been helping in their own ways too. They searched for experienced healers and cursers that came to try their luck for the whole day. Subsequently, the Plegian King bans anyone else from visiting, wishing to have solitude with his wife that might be the only remaining time they have together left.

Lissa had appointed herself as the official healer with Henry's permission. Worried that she would overwork herself, Lon'qu watches over her. Henry understands his concern painfully well and allows him to stay.

'Why does it have to be the nightmare curse...' Henry sighs to himself. If there is one curse he cannot reverse, it is that. One of the most powerful curses even his academy had banned the scholars from learning and executing the curse. He had only heard it as a lullaby as a child. As King, Henry ordered all books especially forbidden ones to the chamber. He read every page without a wink of sleep. Unfortunately, Tharja was right. All the related books have been burnt, leaving no traces behind. Henry closes his eyes, reciting the description of the curse at the back of his head.

"Four nights of never-ending nightmares. The first night would torment the host with their most feared memory. Second, memories and fantasy mix up, brewing up a bittersweet dream. Third, the dreams get sweeter. Fourth, the dreams are sweet enough to never wake up from. And if the host never woke up," Henry pauses and balls his hands into fists, glaring at the crown. "They never will again."

Validar had planted the curse on the crown of Plegia, dooming its next ruler. Four hours after Sierra's coronation, she fell into a deep slumber. Henry's blood turned cold. He had failed her, failing to protect the woman with his specialty. He stares at her Grima-free tattoo hand, yearning to hold and kiss it, letting her know he is here for her. But he cannot, for any physical contact will cause her pain due to the curse. If he could, he would have brought her back to their cottage, free from the unwanted whispers of the castle. He is so close, yet so far. Is he going to lose her, again?

The chamber echoes his sigh. Everything in it is devoid of life; the dull curtains were never drawn, piling layers of dust were not brushed and nothing is moving. Even the trinket made of dead creatures is not the deadest.

Jars of water were all he asks for from the servants. He refills his cup with trembling hands, accidentally spilling some onto the floor.

'I can't be myself without you.' He wipes the floor with contempt. His own tears adds to the spill. He has never feared death, for he welcomes it. If death claims her for real this time, then he will...

After gulping down his cup of water, he clears his throat and shakes the countless gruesome thoughts away. 'No, it's too soon to think about that.' He consoles himself. There are still many things they planned to do. 'I haven't shown you the best graveyards to loot from, the coolest treasures crow stole, and waking up to see your face smiling at me...'

With a deep breath, he continues his chant; his desperate chant of her name to bring her back.

"Sierra. Sierra. Sierra. Sierra..."

* * *

  
"Sierra."

Sierra coughs the seawater out, wiping the sand stuck onto her face and hair off. The sun is too blinding. The sound of the sea waves is overwhelmingly noisy. Her lips are bleeding from the cuts. Her fingers are wrinkled from absorbing too much seawater. Her coat is missing, revealing her frail body and skinny bones.

"Sierra?" A feminine voice calls out her name.

"Who... are you?" Sierra struggles to answer. She tries to lift her head up and spots shades of pink. Is this an ally or foe? Does she have any allies anymore? Should she just give in? 'No... Lissa wouldn't want that.' "You know me?"

"If you are who I think you are, then yes. Come now, there is someone you should meet!" Without any time to waste, the lady lifts her up with ease. She feels her cooling armour plate against her cheeks. 'If she is a foe, she could have killed me right there... maybe some of the Shepherd are waiting for me...'

"Who...?"

"Someone you're dying to meet. She's eager to meet you too, I'm sure. Oh, this will be a great reunion!"

Sierra shut her eyes, lacking the energy to open them. Her hands and legs go limp. She feels as if she is floating. Who could she meant? 'She ...Maybe Exalt Emmeryn survived? ...Lissa? I... don't know...' In no time, the tactician hears the door opens, followed by a loud gasp.

"Cherche, that's..." Someone speaks. A voice that sounds soothing. The very sound of it calms her and more. A delicate flora musk, soft and intoxicating, envelopes the room. Each breath she takes are slower and rejuvenating.

"Sierra, she's here." Cherche nudges her. Sierra pries her eye open, blinking slowly at the blurry figures in front of her.

"You're hurt. Let me heal you my child." The caster mends her wounds and her bleeding stop. Sierra is placed carefully onto the bed. Soon after, she hears the door close.

"My... child?" Sierra reopens her eyes, this time her vision is clearer. Her eyes widen at the sight of the person. A person she has yearned for since forever. She envelopes Sierra. Tears are flowing down both their cheeks. With shaky hands, Sierra places them on her back. The tears gets hotter as she tightens her grip.

"Mother?" Sierra chokes out, stroking her back. "You're... alive?"

* * *

  
"You should sleep." The swordsman motions the King to the vacant couch. "I'll take over."

Henry watches the candle's dancing flame on the night table. It illuminates his dry and closed eyes. "... even the chanting?"

Lon'qu tries to smile but half of his face twitches. "Even the chanting."

The room goes quiet as the two grown men stare at each other. "...Nyehehe! That's a good one, Lon'qu."

"That was not a joke."

"Why don't you pull the chair over here and chat with me."

Lissa is resting in the room beside Sierra's chamber. With Lon'qu's constant reminder to rest, she had no choice but to obey and rest up. At times like these, he wishes he has Lissa's friendliness. Urging Henry to sleep might be easier.

Suddenly, something crickets from Lon'qu's top.

"Er, your stomach?" Henry blinks, responding with the first thing he could think of with his dry humour.

"No... Well, I suppose it's okay to show you since it came from your place..." Lon'qu contemplates for a moment before pulling a beetle from his pocket.

"Aww, look at that, it looks like a miniature knight-"

"-in armour." Lon'qu completes his sentence in awe.

"Wow, never thought we would finish each other sentences. Nyehehe!" Henry chuckles. "Kid me used to play with all kinds of animals."

"Well, that's no different from the current you." Lon'qu muses at the murder of crows that follow Henry around. "I used to play with bugs when I was a child too."

The swordsman pulls a chair beside the Plegian King and a smile finds its way on his face. It seems like he managed to elicit a genuine smile out of him. Lon'qu had found the bug on the way to the kitchen. He did not show it to Lissa, knowing she would freak out over it. 'It is nice to have a friend.' Lon'qu thinks and attempts to be a good one.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you." Lon'qu's smile falters. His voice somber. "I understand how upset and worried Lissa has been and I'm sure you're feeling it worse, especially when it has happened... twice."

Henry drinks his cup of water, his gulps audible. He had heard countless condolences these past few days but he shall not brush it off this time. He needs to talk it out or he will explode and talking to a human is probably one of the least morbid ideas he has.

"How did you first meet her?" Henry strokes Sierra's cheeks fondly. After the second day has past, the frowns on her forehead and the sweating have disappeared. Touching her will not bring her any pain. She seems to be in a blissful dream. However, as much as it pains him, he knows that is not any better than when she was having agonising nightmares.

"Hmm," Lon'qu leans forward as he stares into his fingers. "5 years ago, Sierra was Chrom's tactician representing a Feroxi Tournament. I witnessed her tactics first-hand. It was definitely different - innovative. Were it not for Lucina being their opponent, I don't doubt that Chrom would win easily."

"Hm."

"Sierra prioritises her army's well-being. Always executing the least risky plans. Her battles doesn't stop there. Outside of battles, she forges powerful bonds, winning and inspiring the hearts of many. The mental load of her compassion and intellect is surely overbearing."

"That's her alright. Coming from the man-who-speaks-few-words that is a high praise. I thank you on her behalf." Henry stops stroking her cheek. His hands freeze. What about himself? What has she helped her with? "You must think I'm a pathetic man."

"W-what. I said and thought no such thing." Lon'qu regains his composure, treading carefully in the sudden topic.

"I wish I could go into her dream. I'll follow her anywhere." Henry leans back on his armrest. His voice grows softer. "This time she's so close to me but I can't-I... I can't do a damn thing! She's still in her dreams must mean I'm doing a bad job as her friend, as her useless husband or-"

"Stop." Lon'qu stands up, cutting his dangerous train of thoughts literally. The warmth in the room drops to a freezing point in a beat. With one hand, his blade is against the Queen's throat. His other sword is against King's throat.

"What are you doing?" Henry's voice is low and cold.

Lon'qu glares back, his voice still tamed. "Emotions sway your thoughts. You must remember to think logically."

"Nothing about this is logical."

"Nothing? Without you, an assassin could have come in here and end her life earlier. Don't pretend that you don't know about the dead Grimleal worshipers found right outside her window. They were cursed and attacked by crows and risen arms."

"What makes you think you won't end up the same?"

"I have a hex repellent. A powerful one, don't waste your time testing it."

"Oh, I already did." Henry pushes his hand aside with ease. "Ston'qu."

"..." Lon'qu is unable to say anything, rather he is unable to move at all. Henry chant something under his breath and Lon'qu is no longer muted.

"Well, Tharja may have given you a good charm, but did she fail to tell you I'm a better hexer than her?"

"Tsk. Then admit it, you are not useless. "

"...That's a roundabout way to tell me that, especially coming from you." Henry heaves a sigh and unhexes him. Lon'qu sheathes his swords and throws the charm at his chair in shame. After a few deep breaths, he breaks the silence. His frown remains.

"You're here for her, albeit not the way you wanted. However, you are protecting her in every way you can. Don't lose sight of yourself."

"...Thanks." Henry kneels on the floor, holding Sierra's hand against his cheek.

"Your welcome and sorry about that. I prefer to let the swords do the talking." Lon'qu scratches his chin awkwardly. "What do you think she's dreaming about?"

"...If I have to guess, I suppose it would be about her mother." Henry rests his head beside hers. "She told me she misses her the most before. She has many things she want to tell her but didn't have the chance to. I had a wolf-mom before so I understand. I'm no match for that."

As the room grows dimmer, Lon'qu goes to lit the final candle on the table.

"It's the fourth day." He says bitterly. He turns around and grabs the blanket, putting it over the sleeping King.

"Let us look after them together, fellow knight." Lon'qu takes the beetle out and it crickets as if in agreement.

* * *

  
The sage measures the Queen's heartbeat and records her findings. Her voice is laced with remorse, "It's getting slower."

With his razor sharp eyes, the swordsman observes his chest fallen comrades. Lissa returns her quill on the desk, her lips quiver at the demoralising data. Her scowl remains as she lays the findings beside the untouched tray of breakfasts. Meanwhile, the King goes silent and still. Expelling a sigh, he stands. His cape slides off his bony shoulders. It creases and is left abandoned on his deep chair.

He plods towards the window. The Grimleal eyes on his propped collar are wet from his occasional spills. His back slouches and his own eyes remain closed. Once he reaches the window, he stands motionlessly.

"...Henry?" Lissa calls out.

Sunlight permeates its way through the blinds. Even then, Henry does not draw the curtains.

"I would like to be left alone." He says.

Silence resumes. The couple look at each other, hesitantly. The healer is the first nod and the two retreat to the vacant hallways.

Most of the servants have resigned, fearing Validar's lingering presence and probable curses. Visible dust particles floats about. Then, a sneeze erupted from the petite sage.

"Bless you." Her husband offers his handkerchief. She smiles at his quick reflexes and thoughtfulness.

"...Thanks." Lissa blows her nose and ponders. 'What about Henry's own well-being? The castle is not the only thing in shambles.'

Being a princess herself, she understands the struggles. She may not bear the crown nevertheless she was taught on the essentials. Delegating a trustworthy and capable senates is crucial. Not to mention having a nearly empty castle is dangerous. If Sierra is awake, no doubt she can turn the tables around. 'But...' Lissa grimaces at the worse possible outcome. The future of Plegia will solely be in Henry's hands.

"What is it?" Lon'qu asks and the creases on her forehead lessens.

"Oh, sorry." Lissa leans against a pillar and faces the direction of Sierra's chamber. "I was... thinking if we really lose-"

Lon'qu shakes his head. "Not yet."

Lissa's eyes water, her voice cracks. "Losing her once was already painful enough, why? Why did this have to happen?"

'Do I always take things for granted? Is it because I still have Marbs? No! No! I never meant that... We were just smiling over frogs the other day and now... There are so many cafe we haven't bring you to... Oh Naga please help to bring Sierra back. We miss her. So much. So so so so so much! Especially Henry...'

Lissa's legs give out, her back slides down the pillar. She hugs her knees and weeps. Her cries envelopes the whole castle, a recurring sound over the days. Lon'qu simply leans beside her, whispering, "cry it out." He shakes his head so slightly that a hidden spy simply nods back and retreats. Despite the quietness, the castle is not fully empty. Worried for Lissa and her friends, Chrom had sent some knights to guard the castle. Say'ri and Flavia had sent their own, including spies roaming around in preparation of sneak attacks.

During the first year from losing Sierra, were it not for Ricken noticing Henry's reckless plans in submitting to strange devils and spirits to find her, he might have disappeared long ago. That was not the attempt he tried. Even Tharja never encouraged Henry's suicidal plans. Lissa could only imagine the struggle of those frightening and intrusive thoughts resurface to haunt him once more.

"Naga," Lissa hiccups, "please..."

* * *

  
The skies are clear and perfect for laundry. Humming, Sierra spreads the washed bed sheets and hangs them on the clothesline. She inhales the fresh floral scent off them and sighs in delight. It always smells great. Valm's balmy weather is her favourite. Wyverns fly overhead while horses gallop the vast green field.

"Always such a sprightly lady~" Cherche muses as she clips clothings on.

"Oh Cher! I didn't see you there." Sierra returns the smile. Her companion pushes her hair over her shoulders and Sierra's smile widen at the lingering scent of bacon and eggs breakfast. "You didn't have to do this, you should rest! You just came back from your council meeting right?"

"Says you." Cherche ruffles her hair. "We may not be maids anymore but I prefer to do my own laundry. Besides, it gives me space and time away from our lord, Virion."

The two have been maids-in-training since young, along with Minerva, serving the Duke's household. However, they have embarked on their own remarkable paths; Sierra became a scholar while Cherche became a knight. Thankful for their lord for his sponsorship, they still live in his mansion and provide their services when needed.

"My sentiments exactly." Sierra spreads her washed scholar robes, stroking the Valm Emblem that proudly signifies the recognition of her intelligence.

"So, I heard your mother is cooking her specialty tonight. Oh, is that your stomach growling that I just heard?"

"Hmmmm, maybe it's yours?" The two giggles until their stomach hurts.

"Sierra."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm?" Cherche tilts her head.

"I thought you called me." Sierra mimics her in confusion.

"Oh Sierra, you are still hearing the voices?"

"...Yeah, it's strange isn't it?

"I still remembered you responding with 'Yes Sir Virion!' during our trainings."

"Ow, don't dig up those memories..."

Sierra had mistaken, thinking it was Lord Virion calling for her time to time, earning her an embarrassing title in the household that she rather forget. However, once she got used to Lord Virion's voice, she realised the voices that she kept hearing is different. It's higher pitch and somehow she could hear sadness laced in it. She kept her ears open whenever she meets new people but never matched the voice anywhere. Thinking about it, she heard the voice loudest when she read tactic books. Fearing the voice might be malicious, she rarely reads those type of books.

"Oh Sierra, stay still there's a cutie on you." Cherche reaches to her shoulders and picks the ladybug. She gawks at it's tiny feelers.

"Ah, always a lover of bugs, Cher. Just like him."

"Who? I didn't know you know any bug enthusiast Sierra."

"Huh? I... I don't know." Her eyes fall onto her bare hands. They are slightly wrinkled from handling the wet laundry. She traces her hands, stroking the back of her palm and the ring finger on her right. "Sometimes, I feel like something is missing... Something I know..."

"Are you okay dear? You could use a break. The frown doesn't suit your beautiful face."

"Hmm. You're beginning to sound like Virion there Cher. You could use the break too." Sierra replies with a faint trace of a smile.

Sierra turns to face the mansion. She had lived her whole life there. Her mother works as as a humble servant. Her father had passed away before she was born. Lord Virion's father had been her father figure as he treats her like his own. He tried teaching her the bow but she works better with a sword. Like Cherche, she serves as a knight to the Virion household. She puts her hands on her hips. She was patrolling the castle one night and saw an intruder sneaking into a room. Turned out it was Virion trying to mingle with a maid. Unfortunately, Sierra pulled him out of the room too hard and accidentally threw him over the window. It was 4 floors high. Luckily, there were bushes on the ground and her mother, being a guard as well, brought him to his father's chamber for scolding.

'... Something's wrong. There are discrepancies.' Siera notices. She rubs her eyes and the mansion had turned into a castle.

Surprised, she turns back to the clothesline. Her scholar robes have been replaced by a shabby cloak with ominous eyes staring at her. 'What? ... I recognise those patterns, Plegia? ...Grima?' Out of the blue, her hand burns and she groans. An eerie purple glowing tattoo surfaces on back of her palm.

"Sierra."

The voice rings loudly in her head and she crouches over. 'Who are you?'

"Sierra."

The voice gets louder and faster. He sounds desperate and upset. Then, multiple other voices she never heard joins him.

"Sierra!"

"Who are you? Where are you?" Sierra yells back. Who are these voices? Why, why does she feel like she knows them? Why does hearing them make her feel so angst? Where are they? Why is this happening? She feels so lost. She wants answers. She just wants to go home.

"Sierra?" Cherche taps on her shoulders, "Let's go back home."

Home? Where is home for her? Virion's mansion? Plegia's castle? Ylisse? It is anywhere but here.

"Come on, your mother will be worried sick."

"No," Sierra smacks her hand away, with a choked voice. "My mother has died long ago."

"Sierra, wake up."

She snaps her eyes open, finding herself laying on a plain field.

* * *

  
"We have to do SOMETHING." Lissa asks for the thirteen time. "Come on Sierra, usually you wake up the moment you hear me say that."

Morgan and Tharja had left the chamber with their heads buried in their chest, throwing the failed recipe away in shame. There are only a few minutes left till the 4th day passes with no hope in sight.

The swordsman puts his hand on his wife's shoulder, ushering themselves out of the chamber to give privacy to what may be the final moments between the two.

The King falls to the floor, his head resting on the bed beside the queen's. He reaches for her hand, intertwining with all his remaining strength. His whimpers fill the chamber, suffocating him as he struggles to breathe.

"Sierra... please wake up. Or... Or I'll follow you up there..."

"Don't..."

A coarse voice that he yearns for speaks up. His eyes widen and he trembles. Colour returns to his face as tears stream down his cheeks. The faint trace of a smile finds its way on both their faces.

"... I'm... here, Henry."


End file.
